APARAJITA SEN

APARAJITA SEN

INSOMNIA

Close the shutters,

Put the dog outside,

Switch off the lights,

It is time to sleep.

Draw the blanket,

Over your head,

Curl up your knees

It is time to sleep.

The room is dark & warm

Like mother’s womb;

Listen to the silence drip,

Listen to your own heartbeats,

Listen to the blood pumping in your veins.

Like your mother’s heartbeats

In the long forgotten womb.

Don’t look at the ceiling

Where pale moonbeams dance,

The shutter, sleek & modern

No match for their prying eyes.

Don’t listen to the sounds from the garden

Seeping through the cracks

Of the house that you thought

Protected you from all.

A lonely bird’s cry

Piercing the silent night

Does it seek sleep too?

Craving the comfort

Of warm encircling arms?

Don’t mind the cold bed

The pillows unoccupied,

Don’t think of the warmth

Of wild passionate nights.

Close your eyes, close your eyes

Count the sheep if you would,

Waiting for sleep to come.

Breathe in, breathe out

Think of pleasant things -

Of the beautiful rose in the garden, of poppies in the field.

Of the golden sunshine, the indigo evening,

The waves that break on the shore,

The young grass under your feet,

Blue sky where white gulls soar.

Close your eyes, close your eyes

Drive out the sorry thoughts

Of failure, of rejection

Of crosses and naughts.

Now the first bus trundles past,

Now the radium clock,

Tells you that it is another day

Dawn’s on the starting block.

Open your eyes open your eyes

Bloodshot though they be,

A new day beckons,

Like the fruit of a poisonous tree.

SCARS

In vain did I put on lovely clothes,

Made up my face, so perfect,

Jewels to match, subtle perfume,

Things a woman does, and yet

Nothing detracted him from the quest,

Of mapping the scars on my flesh.

Each scar tells a story, yes

Spun throughout a lifetime,

Starting at birth,

Each one a line

On a virgin page.

Blue and purple marks,

Records of the journey, forgotten now,

Through the narrow birth canal.

The reluctance to leave the comfortable womb,

The watery sphere, safe and secure,

To enter a cold and unfriendly world.

A scar on the shin, acquired

Oh, at the dawn of life,

Climbing a majestic tree.

Young Amazon,

Fierce pride and abandon.

The ugly gash from a recalcitrant branch,

A stern warning, to be remembered.

The livid thin line on the finger,

Torn open by a shard of glass,

On a wild night, inebriated,

When the Gods came down to dance upon the earth.

The scarlet gash, stitched up in haste,

In an odorous somnolent place.

That warm spring day, heady perfume,

Of the forest through which I rode,

Unstable, on a rickety bike,

With the man I loved,

Joyous, carefree,

This day made for lovers.

And then the sudden swerve,

To avoid the tottering kid.

A tumble in the undergrowth,

A spoke bent, piercing the knee.

The scar still there for all to see.

The physical pain, long forgotten.

Not the black despair,

Of losing him, that comes back,

Every time I look at my knee.

The faint crisscrossing indelible lines

Like rivulets on a fertile plain.

That brings back the moment of intense joy

Of setting eyes on a tiny wrinkled face.

Nature, most perfect.

And look, the scar on my right hand,

Where the sharp tooth of my dog sank,

While playing with me in all innocence.

An accident, no more, no less.

He’s gone now, and I am glad

To have this almost indiscernible mark

On my body, he is part of me.

‘This map I shall use

To discover you, the lonely island.

I shall set my sail for each one of them,

Knowing what to expect, and then

Caress each blemish, each visible mark.

One day soon, you’ll forget them

And remember only me, my love.’

I do not argue.

This cartography of visible scars,

Trivial story of an ordinary life,

Those that don’t leave an external mark,

Those that are in my head,

I shall keep to myself.

Dangerous eddies, treacherous, dark and deep,

Enough, to sink

The best equipped ship.

TO MY WOMAN

Oh woman of mine...

Why do you want me to be

a mirror, always,

to see yourself

through my eyes.

The primal need,

reflection,

touch for touch,

kiss for kiss,

blow for blow?

You search my eyes

for your own passions,

desires…

Disappointment,

sharp as thorns

make you bleed.

I watch

helpless,

distant.

Dear heart.

Don’t you know,

I love you

I want you

in my own way,

on my terms?

I crave abandon,

of losing myself in you,

your eyes.

your lips

your body.

I crave freedom, too

in wild days, wilder nights,

on my own terms.

But not today, my love,

not just now.

I have to go,

back where I belong.

To my golden cage,

built with infinite patience,

step by tiny step.

I go back there.

Time and time again.

The doors open for me,

the golden perch beckons.

I go inside, I close the door.

comfort, like cotton wool,

delicious, warm,

wraps me up,

smothers me.

And I want to run….

To open skies,

new landscapes,

those ‘sawdust restaurants with oyster shells’

on ‘streets that follow like a tedious argument’

hackneyed images, words, clichés….

with you? without you?

Woman of mine,

when will you understand,

this need to go back

to my creation.

My freedom,

is but a foray,

momentary

a step outside my gilded cage…

I cannot spread my wings,

to embrace

the void

of your existence,

of your world.

Doubts,

longings,

misgivings.

The sudden swings,

agony and ecstasy….

So forgive me, my love.

You, who made me dream.

I cannot tread this path,

this razor’s edge.

I shall forsake

the wild days

the endless nights,

for the safety

of my golden cage

Aparajita Sen